


All Spock Wants for Christmas

by noodleinabarrel



Series: Textual Communications [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Giving, Humor, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodleinabarrel/pseuds/noodleinabarrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jim is away on a delegation mission, he panics about what to give Spock for Christmas. With help from Bones and Uhura, and in between some spam texting with Spock, Jim realizes he already has the perfect gift. And all it needs is wrapping paper and a bow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Spock Wants for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [K/S Advent 2015](http://ksadvent.livejournal.com/)!
> 
> Although this is a sequal to [Subtext](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2744603), which I wrote for the advent calendar last year, this fic can be read as a standalone.
> 
> Many thanks to my awesome beta reader [fandomlucky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlucky/pseuds/fandomlucky) for all your help!

Jim's communicator pinged as he was trying not to pass out from the wave of cologne assaulting him. The Luproria ambassador must have bathed in it before their dinner. As the ambassador stood to welcome his esteemed guests with a string of adjectives, Jim discreetly glanced at his comm under the table.

 

**Jim.**

 

Trying to cover a grin as the ambassador suddenly recited a poem composed to mark this momentously grandiose occasion, Jim pressed a hand over his mouth. Causing a diplomatic faux pas because he couldn't hold his face together when his boyfriend sent a text containing nothing but his name would probably get Jim sent back to the academy. Again. Jim typed a message back.

 

_Spock._

 

There was a reply just as the ambassador declared the meal blessed by the spirits of cheer and goodwill, and a thousand other things Jim missed as his stomach growled. He imagined it echoing through the hall when the ambassador paused for air, finally declaring the meal sufficiently sanctified for consumption.

 

**Attached is a photo of your quarters. Yeoman Rand obtained access this morning while carrying a box of glittering items, as well as what appeared to be a small coniferous tree. As I found myself curious about why the yeoman should find it necessary to enter your room with a box of such garish items while you are away, I inspected your quarters after bridge shift and found the space had been decorated copiously with items symbolic of the Christmas holiday.**

 

_Holy shit. It’s like one big shiny mess._

 

**That is an adequate description.**

 

_I guess she figured I liked tinsel after I went decorating bonkers last xmas._

 

**It is true that you were excessive with the tinsel.**

 

_That’s not what you said when I wrapped you up in it on Boxing Day._

 

**Negative. My exact phrasing was, "Jim. My vision is becoming obscured. Please remove the tinsel so that I may better appreciate your naked form."**

 

_oh yea good times_

 

**Shall I inform Yeoman Rand to remove the decorations from your quarters?**

 

_No no it looks really festive, I'm kind of into it. I'll get to enjoy it when I get back on xmas at least._

 

**As you wish.**

 

_You can help me take down the tinsel on Boxing Day again. wink wink ;)_

 

**I do not understand your fascination with wrapping me in brightly colored items.**

 

_It brings out your eyes and the flush in your cheeks_

 

**You have an unusual aesthetic perception, Jim.**

 

_ahhh I’ve only been planet side for a day and I already miss you!_

 

**We can communicate again at length once your evening meal with the ambassador and his delegates has concluded.**

 

_ok later gator_

 

**I do not understand your reference to gators, a shortened form of the word alligator, an Earth species common to the southeastern area of the North American continent, used in an informal farewell.**

 

Before Jim could explain the saying in depth, the smell of 'gardens on steroids' came at him from behind. Jim shoved his communicator in his pocket as the ambassador asked if the soup was to his taste.

 

*

_Spock._

 

**Jim.**

 

_Guess what?_

 

**There are an infinite amount of possible answers to your question. I do not wish to devote the entirety of my life attempting to answer it.**

 

_You're such a fun guy, Spock._

 

**Negative. I am not a "fun guy." I am Vulcan.**

 

_Ok I'll get more specific. Guess what I got Bones for xmas?_

 

**The ability to act in a logical manner.**

 

_HAHA you're funny but seriously no way. He’d kill me if I gave him that. :P_

 

**I should hope not. If Doctor McCoy went to such extremes, I would be forced to surrender him to the authorities while attempting to resist inflicting lethal damage upon his person for the grief he would have caused me at the ending of your life.**

 

_aww thx spock, you're so sweet <3_

 

**That is not how you described the taste of my skin last night while you were lavishing my neck with your tongue rather intently during intercourse. Perhaps you should ingest a larger portion of food during evening meals, as you may be nutritionally deficient.**

 

Jim nearly dropped his communicator on the sidewalk. Moving out of the way of the busy pedestrian pathway, he leaned against a building and eagerly tapped at his screen.

 

_omg don't make me think about that stuff when I'm in public you'll make me blush._

 

**As human males are unable to efficiently control their physical signs of arousal, if you are becoming sexually stimulated while I am not available to sate your lust, I doubt a heightening color in your skin is the least of your concerns.**

 

_I don't know how this conversation turned from a guessing game into sexting, but I'm so into it. Ok, so if you were here, how would you satiate my overwhelming lust?_

 

**I have made a guess at your original query, yet you have not provided an answer. We are becoming diverted from the original purpose of the conversation you began.**

 

_gdi spock you tease! You can't stop now!_

 

**Allowing you to masturbate in public would be a neglect of my duties as your first officer and the more logical individual in our relationship. If someone saw and recognized you, it would undoubtedly cause humiliation on your part when the news reached Starfleet headquarters.**

 

_I should have brought you with me. Less chance of humiliation if you're here to pull me into a closet for some afternoon delight._

 

**It was a logical decision to have me remain on the Enterprise while you are occupied with delegations on Luproria. It is unwise to have both members of the command team away from the ship. Although I admit to feelings of regret that I cannot share a delightful afternoon with you at this time, I am unsure what pleasures can be found in closets unless one is especially fond of dark spaces, clothing, or storage items.**

 

_Afternoon delight means sex during the day. So we'd be having sex in closets if you were here._

 

**I see, yet another human euphemism for sexual intercourse.**

 

_Yeah we're obsessed._

 

**Jim, the tight quarters of a closet may not provide the room required for copulation. However, I am not disinclined to attempt sexual experimentation within a closet.**

 

_There’s the sexy scientist I know and love!_

 

**Although I possess a similar level of fondness for you, Jim, I believe we are once again becoming distracted from your original conversation.**

 

_Oh yeah Bones' present! I got him a shiny flask and filed it up with that crazy booze they make here. Really hard liquor._

 

**I am confident the doctor will be pleased you are providing him with liquor, as he frequently states that my presence creates a need for several glasses of bourbon in succession; 96 percent of these remarks proceeding a failure to effectively dispute the merits of my logic.**

 

_He's over exaggerating. Don't listen to him._

 

**I do not make a habit of heeding the doctor's eccentric remarks. Jim, the scheduled period of time for my lunch break has concluded. I must return to duty.**

 

_Ok, take care good care of my ship. Make sure Sulu doesn't fly her into a planet._

 

**Duly noted, Captain.**

 

*

Jim stared at the presents laid out on his bed. Only a single present was missing from his list, and he was tearing his hair out trying to figure out something mind-blowing. Which was near impossible since Spock's mind was not the type to blow easily. Flinging himself on his bed with a huff, Jim grabbed his communicator with the intent of airing his grievances to his usual soundboard. Knowing Bones, the old man would be sitting down to a drink after his med bay shift, and therefore in a semi decent mood.

 

_Bones!! Help I don’t know what to get Spock for xmas!_

 

The reply came instantly.

 

**Coal.**

 

_Haha very funny. No way._

 

**It’s a logical gift. He can use it to warm his cold Vulcan heart.**

 

_Come on Bones, you know nothing about Spock's heart. It doesn’t need warming up at all._

 

**You’re so far gone, kid. Blinded by love, again. Hope you know what you’re doing this time.**

 

_No idea. That’s why I can’t decide what to give him for xmas. Spock isn’t just some "again" romance, he’s special. I need to get him something amazing to show him how much he means to me._

 

**Pretty sure an emotional gift is the equivalent of coal to a Vulcan. All the Vulcan parents probably tell their kids to be very logical this year or else stuffy, stick up his ass Surak will come back from the dead and fill their stockings with feelings.**

 

_That doesn't sound like a real thing, Bones. Most Vulcans don’t even celebrate xmas. Spock only did because of his mom._

 

**Holy shit.**

**Spock decorating a Christmas tree?**

**Eating sugar cookies while singing carols in one of those ugly reindeer sweaters??**

**You crack me up, Jim. Does he have any photos? I need to see this.**

 

_Maybe, but I doubt he’d show you._

 

**Yeah but he’ll show them to you. You’re the only person he says yes to even when he doesn’t want to. Give me copies—they'll make great comeback fodder next time Spock goes on about my emotional outbursts or whatever nonsense.**

 

_I’m not giving you a weapon to use against my boyfriend, Bones. This is a fight you’ll have to go at alone._

 

**You’re damn useless.**

 

_Sorry not sorry._

_But Bones, what about the present? Any actual ideas? He was so sweet last year surprising me, so I want to do something special for him. It’ll be our first anniversary._

 

**I don’t know just get him something useful like socks.**

 

_Maybe..._

_He does have cold feet. I always tease him about it when we’re bed, so it could make a funny joke gift._

 

**For god's SAKE kid don’t put the image of you two in the SACK in my HEAD.**

 

_What do you think we do when I’m holed up in his quarters all night? Play chess?_

_Well sometimes we place chess and sometimes we have sex. Usually both._

 

**sdfg HELL NO I hate you Jim**

 

_No you don’t. We’re best friends. Best friends don’t hate each other._

 

**Lord save me from a friend like you**

 

_< 3_

 

**No.**

 

_< 3333_

 

**Ugh save your shitty hearts for Spock! I don’t want them.**

 

_< 3333333333333333333333333_

 

**How old are you??? Go away!**

 

_Neverrr. Friends don’t abandon each other._

_Bones_

_Bonesssssssssssssss_

_BONESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

 

*

_Spock._

 

**Jim.**

 

_Do you like socks?_

 

**Socks are a useful article of clothing that protect one's feet from the elements and abrasions. I have no objections to the existence of socks. Why do you ask, Jim?**

 

_I just suddenly felt very passionate about socks and wanted to get your opinion._

 

**Your randomized mental perspectives are fascinating, as always.**

 

_You're being sarcastic. That text was practically spilling with sarcasm._

 

**Sarcasm is a human form of humor that I do not employ the use of.**

 

_yea sure bby_

 

*

Jim ran a sock hanging on the display between his thumb and forefinger, testing the thickness of the fabric. Regular polyester socks seemed cheap, and cotton too flimsy. The outrageous ones covered in tendrils of fluffy fleece looked hilarious. When he pulled one over his hand, the fabric felt thick and warm, making his skin sweat. The packaging said they glowed in the dark, and Jim suddenly imagined the fun that could create in bed. Well, fun for Jim, more like tolerance from Spock, with a touch of disbelief or amusement or exasperation depending on his mood.

  
"You look like you're about to kill those socks."

  
Jim jumped, the handful of socks in his hands tumbling onto the ground. Uhura bent to help him collect them, piling them back in his arms with raised brows. "Your Starfleet issue socks not doing it for you?" She nodded at his hand still covered in the blazing green sock. Jim blushed, as if caught green handed revealing a weird fetish, which was almost true considering the thought at the forefront of his mind when she snuck up behind him like a suspicious, nosy cat.

  
"Try these ones instead. They’re more your color." Uhura grabbed a pair of blue cotton socks from the rack, holding them up next to his eyes.

  
"They're not for me," he smiled, rearranging his face into something less flustered. "I'm shopping for Christmas presents."

  
"Uh huh," Uhura smirked at him, hands on hips, probably reading his distress in every tense line tugging at his cheeks. Jim had been trying and failing to fool Uhura since the moment she stepped into that seedy bar in Iowa. A classy woman out of place against the chipped wood of the bar top, yelling above the too loud speakers playing outdated music that were in the top forties when Jim was still in diapers.

  
"So, you're buying Spock socks?" she asked, picking up a pair of slipper socks covered in snowflakes and topped with red pom poms, sizing them up with narrowed eyes.

  
"Maybe. I'm not sure, yet." Jim shrugged, then sighed. "Do you think that's a lame idea? I mean, socks are what you get someone when you don't know what to give them."

  
"Well, it’s a practical gift, and Spock is a practical guy." She shook her head, hanging the pom pommed sock back on the shelf. "And he does have cold feet."

  
"I know, right!" Jim nodded enthusiastically. "They're like ice packs in bed."

  
She snorted, the sound startling against her poised features. "They're so cold I used to wake up every time he brushed up against me in bed," Uhura chuckled.

  
"And he always gets really snuggly when he's asleep," Jim continued. "It's weird because when he gets into bed, he just lies there on his back like a corpse. But next thing I know he's conked out, with his body flung all over me, including his freezing toes, and I can't escape them."

  
Uhura was laughing now, small snorts echoing through her nose in between breaths. "Yes, exactly. It used to drive me nuts."

  
Brushing a hand across the back of his neck, Jim grinned at her amusement. If he aspired to be like anyone, it was Uhura with her mixture of grace and open humor. "It's not weird or insensitive is it?" Jim asked. "Talking to you about this stuff?"

  
Considering Jim was seriously crushing on Spock while he was still dating Uhura, the possibility of ever touching Spock's feet outside the line of duty had been a thought he had never dared imagine. He remembered the silent cheer that fluttered against his throat, forced down with a large gulp of coffee, when Sulu spilled the news during breakfast, whispering under his breath a verbatim of the argument he overheard in the conservatory. His choked glee had been an almost automatic reaction. Jim had imagined them arguing; Uhura's death glare and perfect posture, Spock's impassive face, arms stiff behind his back, and wondered how it had even happened. They had been perfect for each other--smart, gorgeous, with similar interests and specialized fields. And now Spock was with Jim, as opposite as opposites could get. A year later, and Jim still woke up in the middle of the night sometimes, imagining it was all a dream. Until he rolled over and found his nose pressed against the fur covering Spock's chest.

  
"No, not at all," Uhura replied with a wave of her hand. "It's been years now, and there were no hard feelings when it ended. We both knew it was the right thing." Grabbing Jim's hand where it was worrying against the wisps of hair along his neckline, she pulled it back down against his side with a single pat. "Honestly, I'm happy for you two. You're good for each other."

  
"Really?" Jim looked at her skeptically. "I kind of thought it was one sided. That Spock was doing all the good for me, and all he got it return was my pile of issues."

  
"God, Jim," Uhura tossed a pair of red socks at Jim's face. "You have some poor self-esteem for a guy who's all blustering confidence and cocky grins on the bridge. Maybe you should talk to Len about it."

  
"We do. Over a glass of whisky every week in his office. He tries to get me drunk and spill some sob story, so he can fix my broken brain. Though after the third drink it usually turns from accusing questions, jabbing fingers and dammit mans to a full on analysis of his ex-wife's latest emails."

  
Uhura rolled her eyes with a long suffering sigh. The longer Jim worked with her, Uhura's exhales seemed to extend in length a few milliseconds, a repeated finale to Jim's badly timed jokes or brash decisions. "You know, it's usually the people looking in from outside a relationship who notice how much love there actually is."

  
"Spock in love, huh?" Turning away, Jim stared up at the sock display, feeling his cheeks warming, but unable to force down the rush of emotion filling them like a giant red balloon. "Bones will have to eat his hat."

  
Nudging him with her elbow, Uhura bent to peer into his face. "You decided which ones, then?"

  
"I don't know," Jim shrugged. "It was Bones' idea, actually. You dated Spock--don't suppose you have any gift ideas that'll woo his socks off?"

  
"Didn't I just say Spock's already wooed?" Uhura grinned into his face. "But, if you're hoping for something sexy, what about chocolate?"

  
Jim burst out laughing, several customers turning to stare at the noise. "I'm actually shocked that wasn't my first idea. It was kind of a thing for us last Christmas. So chocolate would have meaning, too. Like the socks."

  
"Whatever you get him he'll love it," she grimaced, thwacking his arm lightly. "Well, he'll fake indifference, but I can guarantee he'll probably mark whatever it is as one of his prize possessions. Just because you gave it to him."  
Jim nudged Uhura back. "You're a real morale booster, you know."

 

*

**Knight 2 to A3.**

 

_Pawn 2 to b3. You know what would be really great right now?_

 

**If this is another one of your figurative guessing games, it would be efficient for you to simply state what would be "really great right now" in the interest of expediency, so I may possess the knowledge of this idea you have devised and share my opinion upon the matter. Bishop 1 to C8.**

 

_It would be really great if you could share this box of Luprorian chocolates with me. They're so good._

 

**Chocolate has an inebriating effect on my immune system, therefore it would not be logical to consume it while attempting to win a game of strategy, such as the one we are currently involved in.**

 

_Queen to c4. But you like chocolate, right? Or is it like when humans drink crappy alcohol just to get drunk?_

 

**I would not know if chocolate has a similar taste to feces, as I have never consumed bowel waste. Knight 2 to C5.**

 

_haha omg I hope not._

 

**There is no need to hope, as I have already stated this illogical and unhygienic act is one I have never participated in.**

 

_ok good. So... about chocolate? Do you like the taste? Queen to c5_

 

**The effect of chocolate upon my taste buds is not unpleasant. However, chocolate provides no nutritional necessity, and therefore is a substance I am unlikely to consume on a frequent basis. Pawn 3 to B2.**

 

_Hey, that's not going to work, you know._

 

**It is unwise to reveal the details of one's strategy to an opponent. As you are an accomplished tactician, I assume you are attempting to obtain the aspects of my own strategy in order to disassemble it.**

 

_Don't know what you're going on about. Queen to a5._

 

**Very well. If you are aware of my strategy, please inform me of my plan and why you believe it cannot work against your apparent lack of one.**

 

_No way. I'm not taking the bait._

 

**You are bluffing.**

 

_dammit how do you know me so well?_

 

**We have been in a romantic relationship for 358 days 4 hours 32 minutes and 12 seconds from the composition of this text and, before our current status, shared a professional one for an additional 2 years 129 days 8 minutes and 52 seconds.**

 

_It really gets my heart going knowing you've calculated the exact amount of time we've been together. Down to the second._

 

**You should abstain from ingesting boxes of chocolate in the late evenings. Although I understand the consumption of edible items dangerous to the immune system is a ritual frequently performed among select humans during the holiday season of December, I would recommend not doing so at such a late hour, as the resulting excessive input of sugar into your bloodstream will disturb your sleep patterns. You become considerably irritable when you have not achieved a minimum of six hours of undisturbed sleep, and it would be unwise to experience disruptive emotions during delegations with the Luprorian ambassador.**

 

_Nah don't worry. Luproria is all about emotional turmoil. The ambassador threw a fit today because his council didn't serve us water from the holy fountain of blessing; instead they gave us regular tap water. Not that any of us would know the difference._

 

**The significance behind the rituals of other species are often difficult to comprehend.**

 

_Uh huh, I get it. I'll ease up on the chocolate before bed. So, tell me how you reached your calculation – what's the start date for our romance? When I confessed my undying love for you? When you surprised me at the xmas party last year? When we had sex for the first time?_

 

**I calculated it from the date and time I met you in your quarters and expressed my mutual affection for you. Do you disagree with the timing? Would another starting point be more accurate if I consider human levels of courtship?**

 

_No, your mutual expression of affection sounds just right._

 

**Bishop to A2.**

 

_What are you wearing?_

 

**You have established that your strategy is failing and, becoming desperate, are therefore attempting to distract me from my plan by employing the use of text with sexual connotations.**

 

_Hey hey hey know it all. I'm just trying to lighten the mood. King to d4._

 

**Castle to H4. Although I acknowledge the flattery and understand it is a human mode of courtship to profess such hyperbolic statements, I cannot be ascribed with, despite my eidetic memory and years of study, knowing everything. I was only aware of your scheme, as you begin with the question, "what are you wearing?" whenever you wish to engage in a particular form of erotic communication you have described in the past as "sexting."**

 

_Could have fooled me, you're the smartest guy I know. King to d5. And chess and sex go well together btw. Thought we had figured that out by now. ;)_

 

 **Perhaps we can engage in "sexting" when you have realized your attempts to flee are futile. Queen to G7.**  
**I find myself surprised that you believe such a statement in regards to my knowledge. There is much I have still to learn, and an incalculable percentage of information I will surely never acquire. I can also name fifty two Vulcans I am aware of who have an intelligence rating higher than my own.**

 

_No way. Whatever that rating is, it's bullshit. Pawn 2 to d3._

 

**You are employing flattery again. As you have never met these Vulcans, you cannot know with confidence if their intelligence is equal to my own, nor can you effectively understand the value of a rating scale with which you have no experience, a method that has been studied and tested thoroughly. Queen to E4.**

 

_I just know. I'm smart like that. King to c5._

 

**Bishop to D4. You do possess a keen sense of wisdom regarding the characteristics and skills of others, even when they are not apparent through aptitude tests, or outward appearance.**

 

_Told you so! See! You are a know it all because I know you're a know it all. Question answered, problem solved. King to d6._

 

**Jim.**

 

_I can practically see the frustration oozing from those three letters._

 

**I do not see whatever fabrication your human mind is conjuring through your optical nerves. Pawn 1 to F7.**

 

_That's because you're a seeing is for believing type. Queen to a8._

 

**Affirmative. That is a logical form of belief. Knight 2 to E6.**

 

_ok, then see this, Spock._

_Knight 1 to e7._

_Checkmate._

_Hey, Spock._

 

**Jim.**

 

_What are you wearing?_

 

**Starfleet issue sleepwear.**

 

_That's so hot._

 

*

_Hey Bones. Uhura suggested chocolate._

 

**You don't need any more chocolate, Jimbo.**

 

_Are you saying I'm fat??? D:_

 

**You will be if you keep stuffing your face on that sugar infested planet while mooning over your communicator.**

 

_How do you know about that?! I'm stuck on Luproria while you're 3 light years away on the Enterprise. That's creepy. You're creepy._

 

**I'm not creepy, Jimbo. I just know you. You're the most obvious person ever when it comes to mooning and junk food. I'll have to have a stern talking to Uhura if she's encouraging your sugar rush.**

 

_The chocolate isn't for me. It's for Spock, for his xmas gift._

 

**Are you still fretting over that? He really isn't gonna give an owl's hoot. Get anything. If it's from you he'll piss himself with logic over any old trinket.**

 

_Uhura said the same thing._

_But in a nicer, less weird way._

 

**That's because Uhura has a hell of a lot more patience than me.**

 

_Do you think chocolate is better than socks? Are they too obvious?_

_Maybe too simple?_

_He said he likes socks. And although he likes chocolate, he never eats it because it's unhealthy._

_But that might make it a fun gift since it's something indulgent he'd never buy for himself._

_Maybe I should get him both._

_but would that look like I'm overdoing it?_

_or seem like I didn't know what the best gift was so I got him 2 things in the hopes one of them would be the best?_

 

**Jim. Shut up.**

 

_I can't._

 

**I don’t get why you're obsessing about this. Have a drink. Read a book. Knock yourself out and leave me alone.**

 

_I just don't want to mess it up with Spock._

 

**Spock isn't going to break up with you over a shitty xmas gift. Even if it's some plastic piece of junk, Spock will find some reason to think it's some grossly adorable human thing. And then he'll have something to get all logical with you about, which is the best gift you could give the hobgoblin.**

 

_Maybe._

 

**You're in a weird mood. As always. Get him a bottle of whiskey. Then you can drown your idiot heads together on xmas and I won't have to deal with either of you for a few hours at least.**

 

_Spock doesn't drink alcohol._

 

**Well that explains a lot.**

 

*

Jim banged a fist on Uhura's door. When she opened it, her face appeared covered in a yellowish cream, body wrapped in a fuzzy white hotel robe. The same one Jim was wearing, provided by the hotel on the back of his bathroom door, freshly laundered and smelling like a meadow. One thing he would say about Luprorians, they didn't slack on hospitality. He also found a large basket of native fruits, a vase of flowers, and boxes of sweets--most of which he had sampled last night until his teeth throbbed, covered in a scratchy coating of sugar he kept running his tongue along. In the bathroom, he discovered ten bottles of soap and ten different bottles of shampoo, each a different scent. Ten was a lucky number on Luproria. Feeling adventurous, Jim had washed his hair with the one labeled scent of efalia, and had nearly choked when the water hit his soaped up hair, dispensing the stuff all over his body. It smelled like the cheap perfume his grandma used to wear, but ten times worse. Roses, lavender and icing mixed together.

"Hey," he huffed out. "Bones says I should get Spock whiskey. How ridiculous is that? But it might be kind of funny and ironic because we once had this conversation about whiskey, and Spock said the only reason he would ever drink the stuff would be to stop me from finishing off the bottle. Do you think he'd get it, or is it a stupid idea? Oh, and nice robe by the way." He grinned flapping the sash of his own around like a lasso.

Uhura blinked at him, her mouth half-open. And then she closed it, frowning and rolling her eyes, releasing her long suffering sigh, and stepped back from the door. "Get in here."

"Great, thanks," he rushed in and flopped down on the bed, bouncing a few times. "They have great beds here. Feels like sleeping on a cloud."

"If it's so great why are you here instead of in bed?"

"Don't mind if I do." Crawling up the bed, he pulled down the covers until Uhura's hand clamped down on his bicep, yanking him half off the bed, the strength in her lithe frame always a surprising, lethal underestimation.

"Off," she ordered, and Jim rushed to gain his footing before she dragged him onto the floor. "I meant your bed. The one in your very own hotel room. Instead of getting your smelly farm boy cooties all over my sheets."

"Hey. I showered. Now I smell like efalia." Throwing back his head in what he assumed was an attractive angle, Jim fluffed a hand through his hair. Uhura practically gagged.

"How much shampoo did you put on your head? That's disgusting."

"About a pea sized amount." He lifting a finger bare millimeters above his thumb to demonstrate.

"Why did you use that stuff? Efalia is Luproria's most prized flower. Their mythologies say smelling it can put you into a meditative state. More like put you in a coma." She tossed a towel at him. "Cover that mess up. I'm gonna barf if I have to smell it a second longer."

"Yeah, I'm full of regrets about it." He wrapped the towel around his head, looking up at her. "What's on your face?"

"Orion facial cream. It keeps the blemishes away."

"Can I try some," Jim asked. "I think I'm getting a zit." He rubbed a finger over his chin.

"Sure," she swatted at Jim's hand. "You'll make it worse, touching it. You've been eating too much Luprorian junk food. You'll ruin your skin."

"Maybe. Don't want to gross Spock out when I get back." His hand moved reflectively back to his chin.

"Ok. This is what's going to happen." Her hands returned to her hips. "We're going to have a sensible talk, and I'm going to tell you how much of an idiot you're being, which will hopefully knock some sense into you."

"Brought your chains and whips did you?" Jim grinned at her.  
Uhura glared at him, a shade of death within her narrowed eyes. "Sit down. Over there, on the couch."

"Yes, ma'am." Jim plopped down on the couch, as Uhura took the chair across from it, crossing her arms and legs authoritatively. As the smell of his hair and Uhura's unwavering gaze bore into him, making his stomach full of chocolate and foreign fruits roil, Jim began to question walking down the hall and banging on Uhura's door in the middle of the night. Action before thought, as usual.

"Ok. Jim. I want you to take a deep breath, and tell me what's going on."

"Will you be my relationship mentor?" Jim blurted out, his voice all hope and desperation.

"What?" Uhura gaped in response, her cool facade slipping. Then she burst out laughing, giggling so hard for so long that a creeping sensation of embarrassment started to flush across Jim's body. His ridiculously uncontrollable cheeks were growing hot again, suffocating above the fleece of his robe, under the press of the towel on his head, and in between the smell of flowers filling his nose.

She finally stopped with a few final chokes of breath, wiping the tears from her eyes. "That's a terrible idea. Spock and I broke up, remember? If you're obsessing about a little Christmas gift, I doubt you want the same result from your relationship with Spock."

"Well, no. But, you always have such useful insight about the inner workings of Spock's mind." Jim scratched at his chin.

"Ha! Hardly," she snorted. "I probably know as much as you do."

Pushing at the edge of the towel slipping across his forehead, Jim sighed. "That's not very helpful."

"Suck it up," Uhura laughed. "Something I can tell you though—you have to be forthright with Spock or you'll get nothing from him. I think he's working on it, and you're probably to blame for that, but he doesn't understand the subtleties of human conversation. If you want to know what he's thinking, just ask him."

"I can't ask Spock what he wants for Christmas. It'll ruin the surprise," Jim moaned, flopping back against the couch.

"Then keep worrying yourself into a mess. It's up to you."

"Mmm," Jim murmured, the tragedy of his situation drowning his thoughts with a repetitive tune of self-pity. There was no way Jim was revealing his intentions to Spock. He wanted Spock to have the thrill of unwrapping a gift, contents a mystery, as he pulled back the layers of tape. Jim could imagine Spock being a methodical unwrapper, taking his time to unfold the edges, removing the item and pressing the paper neatly, finger running along the edge to form a straight crease, to place it on a side table out of the way. He would analyze the gift, turning it around in his hands before forming the words of his response. When he was a kid, Christmas was a special day for Spock and his mom. And Jim wanted to give that day back to him, a gift to symbolize all the great memories Spock had already given Jim just by caring for him.

If only he could ask Spock about his perfect gift without actually asking him.

Jim shot up in his seat and grabbed his comm from his robe pocket. "I have an idea," he gasped. His fingers jabbing at the screen.

"What?" Uhura asked.

 

*

_bones_

 

**No. It's too late, go to back to sleep, kiddo.**

 

_no time for that. I need your help_

 

**What else is new?**

 

_can you ask Spock what he wants for xmas?_

 

**For god's sake Jim! Lay off the present business.**

 

_plzzzz bones plzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_

 

**No. I don't like talking to Spock. Making me talk to Spock is worse than you talking about Spock 24/7.**

 

_bonesssssssssssssss plzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_

_bones_

_BONES_

_PLZ_

_I can do this all night bby_

_I have lots of stamina_

_bonesssssssssssssss_

 

**ugh OK if it'll shut you UP!**

 

_wait!! don't tell him I asked because I want his gift from me to be a surprise_

 

**Don't you think it'll be suspicious if I suddenly go up to Spock and ask him what he wants for Christmas? It's not like I ever get him anything.**

 

_He signed up for the ship wide secret santa. So just tell him his secret santa needs ideas._

 

**What the hell? Why did Scrooge sign up for secret Santa?? That doesn’t sound like his cup of tea.**

 

_I don't know. I asked him to. I thought it'd be fun. Good for ship morale if the XO joins in._

 

**And he listened to you?**

 

_uh yea_

 

**Well well well the hobgoblin might have a smidge of real human boy in him after all.**

 

_whatever bones you really can't see past his ears can you?_

 

**Not much to see.**

 

_Come on, be civil. You have to be nicer to Spock._

 

**When pigs fly.**

 

_Do it for me, your dearest friend. He's my boyfriend now, not to mention the friggin XO._

 

**Spock being your boyfriend just makes it worse. How many times have I had to listen to your disgusting stories about cute Spock, pretty Spock, nice Spock, cuddly Spock on and ON. I need a stiff drink every time you bring up Spock, always jabbering away like you're in a ROMANCE novel.**

 

_If I stop waxing poetic about Spock to you, will you be nicer to him?_

 

**That's a decent incentive. I'll TRY if you shut up about him and replace that bottle of whiskey you stole last week. And come ON TIME to your physicals instead of making me chase you down wasting my time like I haven't got a gazillion other idiots to patch up. Stop wriggling whenever you need an allergy hypo. And don't blow me off for our Friday drink whenever Spock snaps his green-blooded fingers.**

 

_Spock never snaps his fingers._

 

**Great, now you're starting to sound like him.**

 

_ok bones ok that's a lot of demands. But I'll do my best because I really want you and Spock to be friends. Or at least get along because I love both of you guys. And I'm sorry I stood you up for drinks a few times. That was an asshole move._

 

**Yeah well. You can be pretty scatterbrained kid, it's not like I wasn't surprised. I'll ask Spock this ridiculous question of yours, and as long as he doesn't get all snippy with me, I'll be polite.**

 

_THANK YOU I LOVE YOU YOU'RE THE BEST <3333_

 

**Don't let Spock hear you tossing all that love at me, or there goes our civility down the toilet.**

 

*

"Uhura, you're amazing!" Jim jumped up from his seat, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek, messing the smooth spread of facial cream.

"What the hell, Jim!" she called after him as he bounded from the room.

 

*

Spock opened his eyes, pulling his mind from the silent drift of meditation as the doorbell system to his quarters chimed. Considering a red alert had not sounded, there had been no communication from the bridge, and Jim was not present on the ship, his mind produced, in quick succession, approximately twenty-three situations that could illicit a guest at the hour of 01:18. However, none of them explained the appearance of Doctor McCoy's grim face when the door slid open.

"Has the captain been injured?" Spock asked automatically. He pressed his lips closed against the rush of fear that assaulted his senses, a numbness overtaking his body from his neural pathways. It was illogical to assume the worst before Spock had heard McCoy's explanation of his unusual presence at his door. Yet, considering the doctor never visited his quarters, let alone at such a late hour, and generally avoided Spock to such an extreme that Spock once witnessed McCoy turning swiftly in the opposite direction when his scowling gaze met Spock's in the hall beyond the med bay, what other explanation could there be? Spock had no qualms over McCoy's avoidance of him, as he found the doctor's presence disruptive and abrasive. His constant obsession with emotions, both the expression of his own and the lack of Spock's, was tiresome. Jim often attempted to promote a modicum of courtesy between Spock and the doctor, expressing, with a slight desperation in his over wide smile, that it would be great if they could all be "friends." Spock had no desire to develop a friendship with Doctor McCoy, and he assumed the feeling was mutual. However, for Jim's sake, Spock had recently kept his more scathing remarks regarding McCoy's illogic to himself.

"Hell no. He's having a makeover with Ny--" he paused, with a shrug, "Lieutenant Uhura. Probably stuffing their faces with crap and braiding each other's hair."

Spock swallowed the urge to explain to the doctor that it was unlikely Nyota was braiding Jim's hair, as his hair did not possess the required length to form the twisting style, nor was it in Jim's character to be covering his face with feces. Although Jim was an adventurous individual who derived pleasure in taking risks, the captain was not yet outright mentally unstable.

Spock raised a customary brow. "If Jim is well, then why are you visiting my quarters at oh one hundred twenty three?"

"Oh, uh." McCoy balked for a moment, his mouth hanging open unattractively on the last utterance. "Well, let's see. Well." He crossed his arms, lifting his body up and down on his toes in an excessive use of body language. "I was having some drinks with a few crew members, and one of them mentioned they were your secret Santa. You know, the secret Santa thing, right?" McCoy glowered at him. "Couldn't believe my ears when Jim told me you signed up for it." He cleared his throat, coughing hoarsely. Spock noted the distinct lack of alcohol on his breath. "Anyway, your secret Santa was driving me nuts stressing over what to get you. I told them it was nuts--you're not one to care about some stupid human tradition. So, this person asked me to ask you what you want for Christmas. You know, because the person can't since they're a secret Santa, not an obvious Santa." McCoy chucked nervously, the sound overly high considering the usual gruff tone of his laughter. "Hell, I didn't want to since you're such a prickly guy to talk to, not to mention unhelpful when it comes to human matters like gift giving, but the person wouldn't lay off, hassling me like crazy, so here I am to get them off my back." McCoy's posture slouched, arms tightening around his chest as the frown he was directing at Spock deepened.

"Your disturbed body language and stuttering speech suggest that you are lying, Doctor," Spock stared at him. "In order to expedite this conversation so that I may return to my meditation and you to your liquid induced debauchery, I suggest you speak frankly and explain the true purpose behind your interruption of my privacy."

"Interrupting! Interrupting what? Didn't think you green-blooded hobgoblins sleep." McCoy's arms flung up into the air, his voice raised. "If I got a credit for every time Jim's complained about you being up all night in the science labs, I'd be a rich man. You'll wear yourself out and collapse, and then whose gotta deal with a Vulcan corpse and Jim fretting all over my med bay? Me! That's who."

Although Spock had erred in airing his frustrations and therefore igniting the maelstrom of McCoy’s significantly more emotional ones, Spock could not help responding. "Although I do not require as much repose as a human, I do indeed require a minimum of four hours rest per standard Earth day. Which I was attempting to achieve, before your ill-timed visit."

"For God's sake, a guy tries to do a nice thing, deal with a grumpy Vulcan in the middle of the night when I just wanna be holed up in bed with a glass of bourbon, and now I gotta deal with your passive aggressive bullshit. Ha!" Bones huffed. "Look," McCoy lifted his gaze, eyes rolling to the right before returning to Spock's. "Jim's freaking out because he doesn’t know what to get you from Christmas. Just give me something to tell Jim so he can finally shut up and relax for a God damn moment, and you can act as surprised as a Vulcan can when you open his gift. No one will be the wiser."

Spock stared at McCoy, processing the turbulent stream of his words, taking a moment to pull the relevant facts from the doctor's slang and dramatic emotionalisms. He rested his arms behind his back, realizing the door was still wide open, the doctor on the outside of the frame, Spock on the other.

"Would you like to come in, Doctor?" Spock queried.

"Huh?" The scowl on McCoy's face lifted momentarily. "Uh, sure." Spock stepped away from the door to allow McCoy passage into his quarters, the doctor stepping gingerly across the threshold, eyeing Spock warily, as if he were expecting the floor to contain some obstacle, or for Spock to only invite him in so he could expel the doctor immediately.

"I apologize for my lack of decorum in not inviting you in upon your arrival," Spock bowed his head briefly as a sign of humility. "Would you care for a beverage?"

"No, no, I'm just dandy." The doctor's gaze still suggested suspicion.

"I assure you I will not coat the liquid of your choice in an inebriating or lethal substance," Spock remarked in an attempt at lightening the mood with a human form of humor.

"What?" Bones balked. "What're you trying to say with all that gibberish?"

As was frequently the case when he was in McCoy’s presence, Spock had to control his own desire to lift his gaze toward the heavens in an illogical attempt to garner relief from an unseen force.

"During your former barrage of words, I interpreted that Jim has expressed worry about purchasing an appropriate gift for my person to present to me upon Christmas day?" Spock queried, slowing the pace of his dialogue, so the doctor's simple mind would have sufficient time to understand its meaning.

"Stop talking like I'm a damn infant. I know my Standard just fine. It's you speaking half robot that frazzles me."

"Very well." Spock normalized his speech patterns. "The captain has asked me to provide a list of items I would find pleasing."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Bones replied curtly.

"I see," Spock nodded, a warmth humming at the back of his head. He had the overwhelming urge to smile, an impulse Spock never believed would happen in anyone's presence other than Jim's, let alone his adversary's. "Please inform Jim that I require no gift. However, knowing Jim's personality, it is unlikely he will take nothing as a satisfactory response. If so, tell him any item he should choose to gift me would please me, as it is Jim's presence during the unveiling of the item that shall provide me with the most gratification."

"So, basically you're saying you just want Jim for Christmas," Bones quirked an eyebrow at Spock, his lips lifting upward, part grimace, part smirk. Spock often had troubled discerning whether the doctor was displeased or elated.

"Basically, yes," Spock stated.

"You know, Spock. Maybe you're not half as awful of a guy for Jim, after all." McCoy's gaze, although still creased, as if the overstimulation of his thought processes were causing him pain, had lightened to take a more reflective quality.

"Although Jim and I possess many differences in personality, and perhaps my own may not be perfectly suited for the emotional needs required in a human courtship, my sole concern regarding the captain is to ensure his happiness."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I believe you," Bones mumbled, nodding slowly. "I'll tell Jim what you said. Not sure it'll make him stop tormenting himself about what piece of junk to buy you, stubborn kid that he is, impossible to knock any sense into that thick skull. But it'll be good for him to hear anyway."

"Although I have a similar doubt regarding Jim's stubborn nature, I thank you, doctor, for passing along my wishes." Spock nodded at him.

McCoy grimaced in reply. "Don't agree with me, Spock. It makes me nervous."

 

*

Jim was eyeing the ingredients listed at the back of a chocolate box, trying to distract himself, when his comm whistled.

 

**All Spock wants for Christmas is your sorry ass.**

 

Jim's eyes widened. He tossed the chocolate box to the side.

 

_what?? that's not very helpful! is his secret santa supposed to wrap me up??_

_hey HEY! you didn't tell him I asked did you??_

 

**HELL NO I did what you said! Here I am, trying to help you out of the goodness of my heart, and now you're throwing accusations at me!**

 

_the goodness of your heart, huh? and for a gazillion different demands!_

 

**All of which are for your own GOOD.**

 

_are you sure you're not making this up? he said he wants me for xmas?_

 

**My ears work, don't they?**

 

_That's pretty romantic for Spock ahaha_

 

**ugh don't remind me.**

 

_And Spock didn't give any other hint? You know, of an actual item he wants??_

 

**Prepare yourself because the romantic slop gets worse. He said anything would do as long as you were there to give it to him.**

 

_wow_

_guess uhura was right_

_I still gotta get him something though._

 

**Well you can stop worrying about it now that you know your weird Vulcan boyfriend honestly doesn’t give a shit. Like I've been telling you from the BEGINNING.**

 

_But I still want it to have meaning._

 

**Oh here we go. The never ending self-flagellation. Jim Kirk's specialty.**

 

_socks or chocolate or whiskey..._

_oh I know! I could cover myself in chocolate wearing nothing but socks after drinking a shot of whiskey and then_

_give myself to him. If ya know what I mean by "give." wink wink! ;)_

 

**That's it I'M DONE**

 

_Bones?_

_Bonesssss!_

 

*

**Jim.**

 

_hey Spock what's up bby?_

 

**You have asked me that question 309 times during our acquaintance and my answer has always been the same. Considering your advanced placement during exams at Starfleet Academy, I am confident you have the required intelligence to recall my answer.**

 

_Your ability to count every little thing I do never fails to turn me on._

 

**That explains the 221 times you have visited my quarters and engaged me in sexual encounters.**

 

_Only 221?? I need to pick up the pace. Don't want to bore you._

 

**There is a 0.01 percent chance of you causing a state of boredom upon my person.**

 

_Yeah, because I won't let it happen. ;)_

_So, how's it shaking? How's it hanging? What's the dilly dally? Got something on your mind?_

 

**I only wished to make communication with you in order to establish your wellness and inform you that I am counting down the minutes until your return to the Enterprise in 48 hours 18 minutes and 3 seconds.**

**Jim?**

 

_Spock?_

 

**2 minutes and 43 seconds have elapsed between this current textual communication and my previous one. Have you become occupied with a situation on Luproria or did I cause offense with my previous statement?**

 

_no spock haha not at all! I was just too busy grinning so big I could hardly see my comm. I miss you too._

 

**As I was not aware grinning could disable a human's eyesight, I wonder at your ability to move about without assistance considering your ample use of your mouth to divulge emotion. However, I am satisfied to hear that such an expression is currently upon your face as I realize it indicates a feeling of happiness.**

 

_Talking to you always makes me happy Spock._

_Spock?_

 

**Jim.**

 

_I don't know the exact seconds, but 2-3 min definitely just passed._

 

**I was contemplating the 1.3 degree increase in my body heat and my increased heartbeat of 7 beats per minute.**

 

_I'm making you blush and your heart go pitter patter!! You like me Spock, you like me lots!_

 

**I believed my affection for you was more than obvious considering that 87 percent of my leisure time is spent in your presence and 92 percent of our evenings are spent sharing the same bed.**

 

_When you put it that way, I guess it is really obvious._

 

**I am gratified to hear you have finally realized the depth of my regard for you.**

 

_I can't help wondering why it's so deep though._

 

**I often question this very fact myself.**

**That was an attempt at sarcasm as I can name 38 different aspects of your personality and appearance that appeal to both my mental preferences as well as my physical ones.**

 

_lmfao! you totally ruined the joke by saying it was a joke and then explaining why it was a joke._

 

**Apparently my translation of Terran humor still requires additional practice.**

 

_you can practice on me anytime bby_

 

**I appreciate your assistance with this difficult form of human communication.**

 

_I dare you to list all 38 of those things you like about me while Bones is listening._

 

**I do not comprehend the purpose of your request. There is a 99.9 percent chance that the doctor would find this speech aggravating.**

 

_sure, his reaction will be hilarious, but it'll also be a bonding moment for you and him, wait and see!_

 

**Perhaps. The doctor does enjoy excessive expressions of emotionalism.**

 

*

Ok, maybe it was a little over the top. But it's not like Jim's adventurous nature had put Spock off yet. Not when, using the full force of his persuasion skills to convince Spock to take vacation instead of bending his back over petri dishes in the science lab for a week, Jim planned a trip to Risa during their combined shore leave. Jim was confident the sneak peek Spock had previewed during an experimental hour in the botany labs of the delights waiting for him on Risa had been the final push to get Spock in his civvies and suntan lotion. That and repetitive complaints that Jim would be listless and sad if Spock stayed behind to slave away on the Enterprise while his captain was sunning himself on the beach in those tight black swim shorts--the ones Spock thought his butt looked aesthetically pleasing in. Or the time Jim had baked a chocolate cake for Spock's birthday. Convincing Bones to help with the recipe while not filling the thing with arsenic had been a feat in itself. And, despite Spock's protestations against celebrating an event he had no part in fabricating, he had convinced Spock to eat one slice of cake since it would be rude to allow the captain to eat alone.

Other than his ass, Spock had a thing for Jim's eyes. It was practically poetic whenever Spock attempted to calculate the exact color wavelength in his boyfriend's eyes while buried halfway inside him.

Consequently, Jim had found the bluest wrapping paper he could find, dragging Uhura along with him to hold the paper up to his eyes and give her opinion on which paper complemented them the best. He bought a white bow to match.

For his plan to have the full effect, Jim needed to be on the Enterprise by the evening of the twenty fourth, the time Spock had so perfectly calculated as the beginning of their romantic relationship. Working his charm tenfold, Jim was able to conclude delegations with the Luprorians a day earlier than his planned departure. The Enterprise was already in orbit around the planet, waiting for the landing party to beam up twenty four hours later.

Promising drinks in exchange, Jim convinced Scotty to beam the captain aboard quietly instead of announcing the event as if he were the human version of the bagpipes he pulled out for special occasions. Once he materialized, Jim took a route through engineering and up the emergency ladders to the residence levels, sneaking down the hall while the coast was clear to Spock's quarters and punching in his override code.

Jim had about thirty minutes until Spock would return to his quarters after his shift ended. So Jim pulled off his clothes, strewing them strategically in a trail from the door to the bed, and then unfurled his wrapping paper, beginning to twirl it around his legs.

He got the paper around his ass until the stuff started to make disturbing tearing sounds as he bent awkwardly to shove the crinkling stuff across his back, almost toppling over in the process, the roll slipping from his fingers and unraveling halfway along the floor.

"Crap," Jim muttered to himself. He needed a second pair of hands. Hopping to Spock's desk where he left his comm, Jim fired off a text to Bones.

 

_bones!! I need your help! I'm in spock's quarters_

 

Bones used his emergency override to barge into Spock's quarters two minutes later, out of breath, med kit in hand.

"Jim, what's wr--" he paused when he spotted Jim, standing upright, perfectly healthy, and naked except for the paper wrapped around his lower half.

"What in the devil!" he roared. Jim considered suggesting they go on a safari during their next Earth shore leave. Bones could give some lions a run for their money.

'Lions do not use a form of currency,' Spock would reply.

'Not that you know of,' Jim would answer smartly, nudging Spock's side and maybe patting his bum if no one was looking, so Spock wouldn't feel embarrassed.

"Jim!" Bones yelled, jolting Jim from his daydream.

"Bones." Jim pulled at the roll of wrapping paper. "Can you help wrap me in this stuff? I can't get it round my back."  
Glaring at him, brows so low his eyes were practically doing the limbo underneath them, Bones noticeably gagged.

"You've finally gone bonkers."

Jim sighed. "No, I'm giving Spock what he wants for Christmas. Me, remember?"

"You're actually fucking serious," Bones growled. "No way am I getting that close to your naked body unless you're at death's door."

"I don’t know why you're suddenly creeped out by this." Jim ran a hand slowly down his bare chest. "We were roomies at the academy for three years. You've already seen it all."

Bones cringed, directing his eyes to the ceiling. "Exactly. I've seen everything more times than I ever wanted to, which was never. You exhibitionist-can't-keep-his-pants-on-for-five-seconds-let alone-five-minutes whack job!"

"Come on, Bones," Jim huffed, shifting awkwardly in the paper, afraid of tearing it. His legs were starting to go numb. "Help wrap me up before I hurt myself. Or before Spock walks in and the surprise is ruined."

"You do know I'm a doctor, right? That I'm on this ship to slap bandages on people, not bows?"

"I know, I know," Jim shrugged. "Sorry if I freaked you out with my text. It's just, I'm running out of time here."  
Groaning, Bones grabbed the roll roughly off the floor with a pointed scowl. "The crap I do for you. God knows why I'm still friends with you."

"I keep you busy," Jim winked as Bones began unraveling the paper, twisting it around his back and chest while standing an arm's breadth away, nose upturned.

"Do you need a drink to get you through this?" Jim asked, trying to hold back his laughter. Nothing would set Bones off worse than mockery in the face of his disgust.

"I need a bottle," Bones mumbled, reaching Jim's neck. "How about I cover your face so Spock doesn't have to listen to you harking on all night. Give his sensitive Vulcan ears a break."

Although he was pretty sure Bones meant sensitive ears in a completely different way, Jim couldn't stop a shit eating grin from spreading across his cheeks at the thought of how he generally used Spock's ear sensitivity at night. Bones eyed him suspiciously.

"It's a good suggestion, but I need to breathe, so just tape it up at my neck." Jim nodded at Spock's desk. "Tape's over there."

"Jesus Christ," Bones mumbled, swiping at the tape and picking at it messily. He stuck a long piece down the open wrapping against Jim's side, the paper crinkling under his rough slaps.

"Take it easy, you'll wreck it," Jim complained, squirming away from Bones' force. Bones just smacked harder in response. He ripped off another piece of tape with vigor.

"Whine about my wrapping job again, and this is going over your mouth," Bones growled, waving the roll of tape in Jim's face. "Dare I even ask where you want this thing?" Brows dancing above his eyes, Bones held up the white bow between two fingers as if it were contaminated.

"Seeing as the good stuff is covered up already, stick it on top of my head," Jim grinned. "Please."

"Ugh," Bones sighed, whacking the bow on Jim's forehead, sending him wobbling back a few steps. "Are we done?" he asked, arms crossed around his chest as he eyed his handiwork with a look of utter distaste.

"Yeah, this is great. Thanks, Bones." Jim began shuffling towards the bed, ready to await Spock.

"Spock must have the patience of a saint," Bones said.

Jim's eyes widened. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said about Spock."

"With you as a friend, I'm beginning to appreciate his stoicism."

"That's great!" Jim cried, holding back the impulse to raise his arms and wave them about in celebration. "You guys'll be best friends before you know it."

Bones rolled his eyes one last time before stomping out the door.

 

*

19:38 passed. And with it Jim's plan to have Spock on top of him when their anniversary rolled around; when, the same time last year, Spock had abandoned his trip to New Vulcan early in order to shove Jim against the wall of his tinsel laden quarters on Christmas Eve, press his mouth against his, the moment both nothing and everything changed between them.

Spock's shift should have ended half an hour ago. Although Spock was obsessively precise about his schedule, maybe he was held up by some fascinating bit of alien dirt in the science labs.

Jim's legs were cramping within the paper. He stretched them a bit, paper crinkling against the sheets, and held back a yawn.

 

*

"Jim."

Jim's eyes shot open to Spock's face looking down at him, eyebrow raised so daringly high it was mostly obscured under his bangs.

"Hey, Spock," Jim grinned up at him sleepily, the wrapping paper scrunching a complaint as he momentarily forgot about his state of decoration and tried to reach for Spock's hand.

"Is this a state you have placed yourself in with a purpose I assume shall be revealed, or one that another has forced upon you as a brightly colored form of restraint? If so, my present duty would be to reprimand the individual in question," Spock asked, voice low. Eight days had passed since Jim had heard Spock's voice without the crackle of communicator static or the dull mute of subspace. He felt a thrill travel down him at the sound.

"If anyone's getting reprimanded it's me." Jim shuffled on the bed until he was closer to where Spock stood at the end. "Merry Christmas! Open up your present," he wriggled inside his packaging.

The edges of Spock's lips twitched, a muscle in his cheek constricting. "You covered yourself in ornamental wrapping with the intention of gifting yourself to me, as I had shared my desire for your presence when questioned by Doctor McCoy about my preferences in regard to Christmas presents."

"You've hit the nail on the head," Jim laughed.

"I have not used a hammer to push a nail into anyone's skull," Spock replied, his brows drawing together.

"A new Terran metaphor for your collection," Jim answered. "It means you got the right answer."

"I see," Spock nodded, his voice rising into contemplative scientist mode. "The head is in reference to the top of a nail which one yielding a hammer would intend to strike, a movement that requires precision in a similar manner as deciphering the exact motivation behind a conundrum. Such as one's captain being confined by blue metallic paper on one's bed."

"Nice deducing there, Spock. If you ever want a career change, you could be a detective." Jim twisted more obviously in the paper. "Now hurry up and unwrap me. You're late."

"I have no desire to leave my current position aboard the Enterprise." Spock placed his fingers along the paper near Jim's neck, picking at the tape’s edge with a fingernail. Jim shivered, the thought of Spock's hands on him setting off a rush of blood to his groin. "If I had been aware you were waiting prostrate upon my bed in a state of distress, albeit one you had placed yourself in," Spock continued, as he ran a finger down the paper's opening, lifting the tape carefully, methodically, just as Jim knew he would, "I would have left the science lab upon the scheduled completion of my shift instead of remaining to assist Lieutenant Marshalls with his experimentation of Luprorian earth particles."

"Oh my God, you were studying dirt on our anniversary," Jim burst out laughing. "That's so you, Spock."

"Our anniversary?" Spock's hands paused on the paper, his attention moving to Jim's eyes. Jim fidgeted in response, getting inpatient for those vigilant fingers on his own. "Ah. The moment I had calculated as the beginning of our romantic relationship was approximately three hours, twenty two minutes, and eight seconds a year ago on this day.

"There's that hammer hitting the nail again," Jim breathed. "Spock, my arms are like rocks in here. Just tear this stuff off and let’s get naked together."

"It would be wasteful to ruin perfectly adequate wrapping paper by inflicting tears upon it." Spock continued his cautious separation of tape and paper.

"Spock," Jim moaned. "The stuff is already creased like crazy, and I probably drooled all over it in my sleep. Just shred it."

"No," Spock said. "You have provided me with a gift and I wish to savor the unveiling."

"Ok, now you're making my hard on ten times worse," Jim sighed.

"The anticipation of the act will make our sexual joining, which I assume is to follow the unwrapping from the connotations of your flirtatious remarks, more pleasurable." As Spock's finger skimming along the tape at his hip, Jim's waist followed upward into the faint pressure like a puppet on a string.

Jim silently cursed Bones' heavy hand with the tape. At this rate, Spock would be teasing Jim all night until no choice remained but to come all over the wrapping paper, making a complete mess of it. In an act of desperation, and for the sake of his bluing balls, Jim began kicking at the paper around his legs.

"Jim. Please discontinue your struggling. You are ripping the paper and therefore destroying the purpose you initiated by binding yourself in it."

"I can’t take it anymore, Spock!" His left knee jabbed through the wrapping.

"You are impatient, as always," Spock almost sighed, which for him meant a slight parting of his lips and a flicker in his eyebrows. Jim wanted to kiss those curving lips, breathing in Spock’s exasperation through his mouth, catching it against his throat until it turned into a sparking moan of pleasure.

Shoving his leg more forcefully through the paper, Jim’s naked thigh finally sensed freedom, stretching languorously out on the bed. "Can we have sex now?" Jim asked.

Spock raised an eyebrow as his gaze drifted to the pale flash of skin among the blue metallic shredding. "You are conveniently naked under the paper you have decorated yourself in." Hearing the compliance in Spock’s lowered voice--the voice he used when Jim jumped into his lap, tore his shirt off and tossed it at Spock’s head, or ate pizza messily in the dining hall--Jim twisted his hips toward Spock, the paper inching across his skin, hoping the movement looked seductive rather than ridiculous.

"Yes, yes I am," Jim replied in a transparently sexy tone that had no effect on Spock, except, maybe causing a twitch of his lips that Jim may have imagined in his half-asleep, half-aroused, one hundred percent obsessed with the shape of Spock's mouth, mind. "And if you rip the rest of this stuff off of me, I can be naked under you instead." He fluttered his eyelashes as Spock's lips parted a few additional millimeters. If that wasn't an obvious sign of lust from Spock, Jim didn't know what was.

Spock didn't exactly tear off the wrapping paper, but he did tug at the remaining tape with a vigor that contrasted his previous careful drawing of fingers under paper. Jim heard at least two small sounds of tearing as Spock pulled away at the last piece, revealing Jim in all his unabashed glory.

One second the paper was off of Jim, the next, a hot Vulcan mouth was pressed against his. Jim pulled at Spock's clothing with none of the gentleness Spock had spared, running his hands down cool Vulcan skin.

 

*

Sated, his mind blown to kingdom come as it always was after Spock had his thoroughly detailed way with him, Jim flopped against Spock's chest, breathing in the spicy scent of his sweat, promising himself for the millionth time that he wouldn’t drool over Spock tonight when he fell asleep. Spock shifted under Jim, pulling him closer with a lax grip. His feet grazed against Jim’s ankle in an icy trail that struck a weak yelp from Jim’s throat.

"How are your feet still so cold?" Jim mumbled against Spock’s throat.

"As I have reiterated before, Vulcan core temperature is seven point six degrees cooler than in humans, notably so in our feet to prevent overheating in the desert climate my species evolved in," Spock droned, fingers trailing neat lines along Jim’s back, his normally lecturing tone softened by their recent exertions.

Reaching a hand out blindly, not wanting to pull away from the press of Spock's skin, Jim fumbled at the bedside table until his hand landed on crinkling paper. He dropped the messily wrapped package on Spock’s shoulder. "I got you an actual gift. As in an actual thing. Rather than just me," Jim mumbled stupidly. "It might help with your problem."

"If you are referring to my feet, their temperature is not a problem as, I previously stated, it is normal for Vulcan extremities to appear cold to human touch," Spock argued half-heartedly as he pulled away at the wrapping above Jim’s head. Jim snuggled closer, lifting his feet away from Spock’s, turning on his side to watch.

"Socks," Spock said.

"Wool. Double lined," Jim confirmed.

"A most useful gift," Spock nodded. "You have managed to appeal to both my logical and emotional preferences with your gifts. I congratulate and thank you."

Jim chuckled. "All my obsessing paid off, then." Sitting up, he took the socks from Spock’s hand. "Let’s try them out, see if they’re any good." He pulled back the bed sheets and tugged at Spock’s leg, revealing his feet, flushed green around the toes.

Spock twitched as Jim grabbed his left foot. A week after their first night together, Jim had discovered, during a glorious evening of exploration along the sharp plains of Spock's body, that the commander had ticklish feet. It took every ounce of will in Jim's unrestrained body to keep from running his fingernails along the bottom of Spock's heel every chance he got. It was something Spock got defensive about, so Jim used his knowledge of Spock's weakness on rare occasions--like after an especially successful hand job when Jim used his mouth to stimulate the sensitive skin along Spock's knuckles until the Vulcan was aroused enough to forgive Jim a tickle against his feet. 

Jim scrunched up the sock pulling it over Spock's foot until it was snuggly covered. He repeated the action on Spock's right foot.

"How do they feel?" Jim asked, patting Spock's feet then pulling the sheets back over them as he curled up against Spock again.

"Comfortable," Spock affirmed. He pressed his feet against Jim's, the soft wool brushing along his toes, down the dip to his heal, and up around his ankle and calf. "Are you still disturbed by the temperature of my extremities?" Spock's voice lulled against Jim's lips as he bent up for a kiss.

"No," Jim breathed into Spock's mouth. "They're perfect."

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed and would like to share this fic, here's a convenient Tumblr reblog link: <http://noodleinabarrel.tumblr.com/post/153886124887/part-two-of-textual-communications-while-jim>
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://noodleinabarrel.tumblr.com/) for spirk spam, fic writing fun, and fangirling.


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